by Helen Gosney
Rowan had been most surprised to see his friends Cris and Rill at the Trophy, and even more surprised to see Brother Tadeus, the priest of the One from Cris’ home of Gnash.
When the time came to leave Den Siddon, all three accepted Rowan’s invitation to stay in Sian for a while, and when the foresters turned northwards along the edge of the Sleeping Dogs Mountains and headed for the Dogleg Pass, they’d stayed with Rowan while he went to his first garrison, Den Sorl, for a few days.
Tadeus had been a Guardsman before finding his religious calling late in life. He’d found Hibbon Harrelson to be good company, and he was perfectly happy to spend some time in his new friend’s little garrison before travelling on to see the fabled Forest Giants. He planned to stay in Sian for a while too, partly to help out a bit, and particularly to see Rowan’s stallions. He’d heard amazing tales of what they could do and he wanted to see for himself.
As far as Cris and Rill were concerned, they didn’t really mind where they went. Before he’d gone to the Trophy, Cris had thought that he’d return to his home of Gnash, near the far western coast.
He’d always thought perhaps he might have had a future with a particular girl there… Shana, the pretty daughter of Bimm Olafsen, an innkeeper in the little city. She’d wanted to travel to Plausant Bron with Cris and the twins, but simply hadn’t felt able to when her father was injured and unable to manage the Duck and Whistle Inn by himself. And so she’d stayed behind. When Cris had returned some months later, she’d seemed a bit distant. Then again, she was often like that, as the little ratcatcher well knew, and he’d thought nothing of it as he’d travelled on with his new friends. They’d exchanged letters over the time of Cris and Rill’s wanderings, and she’d seemed the same as always.
But now he found himself in a bit of a quandary, really.
When he’d met up with Tadeus in Den Siddon, there’d naturally been an exchange of news and gossip. He’d been happy to hear that Bimm had always gone to Tadeus and his old friend, Brother Hess, to pass on the latest news from his, Cris’, letters. And then Tadeus had told him that Shana was wed to someone else. Poor Cris had been stunned at first, but as he thought about it a bit more he realised that it hadn’t been right to expect Shana to wait for him for so long. Somehow the time had just sort of slipped away, and suddenly it was seven years later. No, far too long for anyone to wait, and certainly not a lovely, popular girl like Shana who’d always made it clear that she wanted a family, children, before she was too old to enjoy them. At twenty-two, she hadn’t been quite ready to settle down when Cris last saw her, but… well, seven years was a long time. He’d mentally kicked himself quite a few times, but as he thought about it a bit more he found that he could only wish her well. She’d moved on, and now so must he.
He decided to speak to Rowan about it as they tended their horses one morning.
Rowan nodded as he heard the sad little tale. He knew a lot about loss and moving on: far more than he’d ever wanted or expected to know.
“I’m truly sorry to hear that you’ve lost your dreams like that, Cris. Shana is a lovely girl. But… well, you don’t need me to tell you that perhaps you were simply away for too long. All you can do is wish her well, as you say, and, and get on with your own life now.”
Cris nodded and nothing more was said for a little while as they brushed their horses together.
“Will you still come to Borl Quist though, Cris? You don’t have to stay if you’d rather not, but ‘tis much quicker to go over the Dogleg Pass and then straight across Sian to the Gap, rather than going around, wherever you might go to next. Unless of course you want to head south to Crell,” Rowan said eventually.
“No, not Crell, I don’t think. I’d like to see more of Borl Quist and the trees, so I’ll stay with you for a while, if you don’t mind my being there. Maybe I can help you out a bit while Griff and Honi have their break, like Brother Tadeus is going to. And then, well, I’m not really sure what I’ll do after that.”
“Thanks, Cris. An extra pair of hands never goes astray with the horses,” Rowan smiled down at his friend, “And you’ve done so well with Bess I think I can trust you with our horses.”
The little bay mare turned her head and nuzzled at Rowan’s knee for a moment before turning her attention back to her breakfast. She was sleek and glossy and a credit to Cris’ care. He’d known very little about horses when he’d left Gnash seven years ago, but he’d learned a hell of a lot while travelling with Rowan and Rose.
“Ha! I’ll do my best, Rowan!”
“’Tis all you can do, laddie,” Rowan said cheerfully, “And what of Rill? Will he go with you when you’re ready to move on, do you think?”
Cris frowned thoughtfully.
“Hmm… I don’t know. I think he’ll probably find another river to explore…”
“Well, there’s plenty of them in Sian. Is he… er… safe to be let loose on his own now?”
Cris laughed. Rill had lagged behind to look at every creek and waterway they’d crossed on the way and he was presently investigating the local river downstream of Chinook’s Bridge.
When he’d initially joined them, after leaving Plausant Bron, Rill had known even less than Cris had about surviving outside a city – and that was saying something – but he too had learned a lot over the last few years.
“Yes, I think so,” Cris said, “He’s quite good at catching fish and he’ll never be far from a river, so I don’t think he’ll starve or die of thirst.”
“Bloody daft if he does!” Rowan said with a grin.
**********
Cris, Moss, and Rill had travelled to the Trophy with Rowan’s family and kin, and naturally they’d gone through the Dogleg Pass. They’d been astounded when the foresters had blindfolded their horses and led them across the Scream – the narrow and very dangerous precipice at the top of the Pass – with very little trouble at all. Well, apart from Rill’s mount, Fish, which had been very difficult to the extent they’d almost left the horse behind. Finally Rose and Griff had managed to get the animal across between them, but it’d taken a long time, much patience, and a lot of swearing from everyone.
Chinook, on the other hand, had lived in the foothills of the Sleeping Dogs nearly all his life, but he’d never been near the notorious Pass and had never felt any the worse for it.
Brother Tadeus had travelled through Sian to the Trophy, but he’d gone through the Gap– the narrow western break in Sian’s encircling mountains – and then across the province itself, marvelling at the wonderful trees all the way, and left via the broader southern Break. He’d seen the Sleeping Dogs on his left hand side as he’d journeyed to Den Siddon, and wondered how the hell the foresters ever managed to cross them with their horses as they were reputed to do. He decided he’d ask them, if he could. There’d surely be some at the Tournament to watch their famous kinsman compete. When he had actually asked them, they’d shrugged and said they just simply did it, then smiled and suggested that he wait until he’d seen Rowan cross the Scream before he felt too amazed at their own feats.
**********
Rowan and his friends weren’t in any particular hurry after leaving Den Sorl and the trolls found that they kept up easily, despite their inexperience and their slower horses. Both Moss and Chinook found endless fascination in the birds and animals that abounded along the track to the Dogleg Pass, and Rill found the same in the little creeks and rivers that splashed and gurgled their way down the increasingly steep slopes.
They were all surprised when Rowan called a halt in midafternoon one day. They were very high up in the mountains now, and the air was becoming a bit thin, but even so the snowy tops of the Sleeping Dogs reared far above them.
“Well, lads,” he said, indicating a sheltered spot off the track a little, “This is the best place to stop for today, if you want to. This is the northern Fang we’re on now, and the Scream is about a quarter of a mile on. You can see it just around the next bend up there… and ‘tis a
good hour before there’s anywhere that’s safe to stop on the other side, because the southern Fang likes to drop bits of itself on unwary folk. Do you want to keep going, or…?”
Cris and Rill looked at each other in trepidation. It’d taken more than half a day to get everyone across when they’d come this way before. Yes, there were less of them this time, but still it’d likely take a while. And of course they still had Fish to contend with. Perhaps it’d be better to just stop here now and cross in the morning.
“Can we truly see the, er, the Scream from just up there?” Tadeus asked. He couldn’t believe they were so close to the legendary and notoriously dangerous precipice.
“Aye, you truly can,” Rowan smiled at him, “Do you have a good head for heights? Even if you do, I’d advise you very strongly not to look straight down.”
“I’m pretty good with heights,” the priest said thoughtfully, “But I’ll be very bloody careful, don’t worry. Can we go up and look at it now, while we all think about stopping here for the day?”
“Aye, if you want to. Anyone else coming?” Rowan looked around at the others. Cris and Moss shook their heads and Rill was looking decidedly worried. Best keep an eye on him, Rowan thought.
“Aye, I’d like to see it too,” Chinook said, “But I might leave Lavender here with you, Moss.”
And so it was agreed that Rowan, Tadeus and Chinook would inspect the Scream and the others would keep an eye on the horses.
**********
7. “it won’t get better for the waiting”
They came around the bend and there it was: a narrow, rock-strewn, very exposed and undeniably very dangerous-looking little track that wound its way around the face of the northern Fang, an almost vertical wall of rock at this point. The wind was blowing strong and cold as it always did up here and most of the track was clear, but in the most sheltered parts there were gleaming patches of ice and a dusting of snow. About a quarter of a mile away reared the southern Fang and the little ledge seemed to become a bit wider as it disappeared between the two great peaks.
To the left there was… nothing. Well, nothing except a stupendous view of the snow-capped Sleeping Dogs running endlessly away to the south, and a sheer drop of almost a thousand feet to another narrow, rocky ledge, with another a similar distance below that.
“Great One,” Tadeus whispered devoutly, “No wonder the fraggin thing’s called the Scream!”
He hastily stepped back a bit more.
“But some clans call it the Breath Stealer, don’t they, Rowan?” Chinook asked quietly. At Rowan’s smile and nod, he added, “And you truly can get us across there safely, can’t you?”
“Aye, Chinook, I truly can. You surely don’t think I brought you all the way up here just to show you the damned thing, do you?” Rowan smiled at the troll again. “Anyone of my clan could get you over this, and a few from the other clans could as well. I promise that I’ll get you over it safely, provided you do your bit too. You must sit still on the horse, let it have its head, and don’t fret at it, but you can hang onto its mane or saddle as tightly as you like, and shut your eyes if you want to. Try and open them about halfway across though. You can see forever up here, they say, and ‘tis even better from the middle.”
Chinook looked thoughtful for a while without saying anything. He’d suspected that Rowan was more than a mere Horse Whisperer when he’d first known him as a young recruit at Den Sorl. Mind you, there was nothing ‘mere’ about being a genuine Horse Whisperer, and they weren’t common outside Sian. For some reason there were quite a few there. A hushed conversation with Moss, while they’d been inspecting Chinook’s Bridge, had confirmed that Rowan was in fact that rarest of rare things, a true Beast Master. The troll knew that there’d be no problem getting the horses across even this terrifying place, with Rowan there, and it’d likely not take long at all. He looked at Tadeus and raised a shaggy eyebrow.
The priest took a deep breath and nodded.
“I think we should get on with it,” he said stoutly.
“As do I. I’m sure Moss will agree, but I don’t know about Cris and Rill,” Chinook said, “If they’d rather wait for the morning, that is all right too.”
They returned to the others, who were waiting in the sheltered little place out of the wind where they might spend the night.
“What’s it to be, lads?” Rowan said softly.
Cris looked at Rill and Moss and nodded.
“We should cross the cursed thing now, I think, if there’ll be time to do it today,” he said, “The thought of it won’t get better for the waiting.”
“Time won’t be a problem, Cris. There are only six horses after all,” Rowan looked around at everyone carefully, “Now, who’s the most nervous? Rill? You’re looking a bit, umm, unhappy.”
“Yes, Rowan. Fish was really difficult coming over before… for a while we thought we’d have to leave him behind…” Rill stroked his brown gelding’s nose. It was a plain, normally sensible creature, but it’d picked up on Rill’s fear last time and it was doing so again. “And, er… I, er, I’m not good with heights either.” He’d walked across with Rhys and had been so frightened that he’d found himself picked up and put across the forester’s broad shoulder with the instruction to ‘shut your eyes, laddie, for the bloody Gods’ sakes. I’ve got you.’
“Don’t fret yourself, Rill lad,” Rowan said kindly as he reached over and patted Fish. The gelding pricked its ears and looked comically surprised as it nuzzled at Rowan’s hand. “There’s always something that folk don’t care for. Even some of my kin don’t like coming this way.” He smiled at the stunned look on everyone’s faces.
“Truly? Foresters who don’t like heights?” Cris said, wide-eyed, “But… but how do they…?”
“They become hunters, or drovers, or whatever else they like that doesn’t involve heights and climbing trees. When I was a lad I used to go out with the town’s hunters, and they’d always send me up trees or down cliff faces to retrieve game,” Rowan said, “’Twas partly because I was only young, but also most of them simply didn’t like heights. There’s no bloody shame to it.” Rowan saw that Rill looked a little bit happier, and Fish a lot happier, and continued, “If they do come this way, they shut their eyes very tightly and swear a lot while somebody helps them across. Now, Rill lad, do you want to ride Ashen? He’s been over here a few times now, and he’ll look after you so long as you sit quietly, let him have his head, and just leave everything to him.” Rowan saw no reason to mention that if Rill didn’t do exactly that, he’d find himself taking the short, quick way down the mountain and finding out exactly how this part of the Pass had earned its name and fearsome reputation.
Rill stared at him in amazement, much as everyone else was doing.
“We’re… we’re going to ride?” he managed, “We, er, we walked across last time.”
Rowan shrugged.
“Aye, ‘tis how everyone else does it, but me, though I often walk if there’s a few to get across.” Particularly if there was somebody as nervous as poor Rill, who needed to be on Ashen’s safe back. “You can walk too if you’d rather.”
Rill swallowed his fear as best he could.
“Er… no. I think I’ll ride,” he almost squeaked.
“Good lad. Now, can you hold Scrap for me for a moment, please, so I can give the eagles something without him trying to catch them…” he fumbled in a bag for a moment and found a plump rabbit. “Here we are. I hope they’re not tired of rabbit.”
“Eagles? Up here? Oh…” Chinook’s deep voice faded away as he looked up at the huge white bird that’d appeared from nowhere, “Snow eagles!”
“Not just any old snow eagles, my friend,” Moss said happily, “These are blood-crested snow eagles. Watch!”
The snow eagle – a female, Moss thought, judging by its enormous size – came much closer than it had when all of Rowan’s kin had come across, and the troll thought it had nothing to do with the number of folk present.
He felt he could almost reach out and touch the bird as it glided past and landed neatly to inspect the rabbit less than twenty feet away. The eagle examined its gift carefully, then raised its snowy crest and shrieked. The bases of the feathers looked like they’d been dipped in fresh blood. The eagle then grabbed the rabbit in its huge talons, launched itself into the air with another fierce shriek, and flapped off towards the southern Fang.
“That was… amazing…” Chinook said, “I never thought to see these birds at all. Thank you, Rowan.”
Rowan smiled at him, but shook his head.
“You don’t need to thank me, Chinook. We foresters always leave something for the eagles when we’re up this way, and they’ve come to expect it.”
“But ‘twas so close…”
“Sometimes they are, and sometimes they’re not.”
The trolls looked at each other again, nodded slightly, but said nothing.
Rowan took Scrap from Rill’s trembling hands and soothed the normally bold and unflappable, but now definitely rather flustered, little cat as he rethought his plan. He didn’t want the poor man’s obvious terror to upset Ashen too. “Rill, I truly think you might be better up behind me, on Ashen. I’ll lead Fish, and then Cris and Bess can follow me, then Tadeus and Hazel, and the trolls. Moss, Chinook, will you be all right back there, do you think?”
“Yes, Rowan. Strawberry and Lavender are good sensible creatures. I think we will be all right so long as they can see thee,” Moss said.
“I’ll sing something as we go across, so they can hear me even if they can’t see me,” Rowan said, “Now, is everyone ready?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be, I think,” Cris said.
“Then give the horses their heads, grab their manes, and for the Gods’ sakes, don’t fuss at them. Shut your eyes if you want to, the horses will watch where they’re going.”
“Are you not going to blindfold the horses?” Rill said doubtfully, the full import of what’d been said finally sinking into his frightened mind.